From: roadrunner@uk.tele.nokia.fi
Subject: Genesis
Date: 11 Oct 1993 08:49:19 GMT

I've had a couple of requests for a re-post of this.
It used to be titled "Company Man" but due to conflict
with an exisiting story it has been changed to "Genesis".
I've also made some changes to the text and added a
couple of _new_bits_.

This is the last time I shall post this (I've done it
three times already ;-)

Part 2 should be available rsn.

Runner.


GENISIS

Kyle knew it was over as soon as the Cman entered the bar.
He shouldn't have been surprised, he had been expecting this for some
time now, but the realisation that his time had come still made him
nervous.
He shifted uncomfortably on his stool as the Cman crossed the sticky
floor.
Subconsciously he tapped the .35 Pietzo tucked neatly under the skin of
his right thigh.

The Cman stepped to the middle of the bar and held out his hand. The
holocube unfolded before the uninterested punters. Eyes shifted and
focused on the green aura emanating from the Cman's left hand.

"I'm looking for this man,", he asked in the monotone that
accompanied all Vbox implants. The mirrored shades gave no
indication of the Cman's thoughts; behind the shades the Cman's right
eye darted across the room and pattern matched each face with that on
the holocube. The SonyC1000 microprocessor in the left cerebral took
into account PlasTex alterations, and targeted 3 possibilities, two at the
Pinton table and one at the bar. The Cman's .65 pulsed into life under
his right forearm as his left eye locked onto the three targets. The
computer reported a 88.85% chance of successful termination. The
Cman blinked. The computer reported target 2 - the human at the bar,
with his back turned - to be the 1.15% chance of failure. The Cman
acknowledged and blinked. The computer reordered the targets. The
man at the bar first, the two at the table last. Chance of successful
termination - 100%.
These odds the Cman liked.

The little red pulse in the corner of Kyles' left eye warned him of the
lock. The Sony 410 in his left cerebral traced the lock path to
somewhere in the middle of the bar. Somehow he knew the path lead
right to the Cman. Kyle casually placed his right hand on top of his
thigh and stroked the Pietzo. It immediately pulsed into life.
Kyle tensed.

The Cman folded up his hand and the holocube disappeared. He had
sensed the laser warming up from the direction of the bar, as well as
the two from the Pinton table, one from behind the stage curtains, and
two from behind the fading picture of Voyager XVI. He blinked. The
targeting computer immediately acquired new co-ordinates, as he set
his .65 for wide burst auto fire. In his left hand popped a plasma
grenade - should take care of the East wing. Chances of successful
termination 88.40%. Chances of successful evacuation - NIL. No
emotion gave away the tension in the Cman. He activated the plasma
grenade and waited for the moment.

The Barman held up his prosthetic right arm and pointed a Tiranium
forefinger directly at the Cman.
"Don't want your sort of trouble in this bar, CeeMan", he strained in
his deep, clearly synthesised voice. The scar across his neck, a constant
reminder of his last contact with a Company Man, was just visible
under the numerous folds of his chin.

"Give me the man. There will be no trouble." was the monotonic reply.

The Barman flitted a quick glance to Kyle, and an inkling of a smile
started to spread across his heavily scarred face. "Yeah. Right-"

The first shot rang out from Pinton table, the bullet ricocheted off the
Cman's Tiranium overcoat and tore through the Voyager painting. A
scream. The painting bled.
The second came from the East wing. The Cman dropped the grenade.
The small retros fired and it surged forward. Moments later, a
thunderous boom and the entire East wing lit up in a plasma fireball. A
second grenade was dispatched, followed quickly by a third. Another
shot rang out and ripped through the Cman's right shoulder blade. The
SonyC1000 detected the  penetration and immediately blew the
primary Testosterone canisters deep inside the Cman's frontal lobe. The
Cman felt no pain.

The second and third grenade ignited behind the Cman within seconds
of each other, the shock wave of the combined blast ripped through the
furniture around the Cman, glass fell around the room as the small
neon light strips shattered. Screams of pain echoed within the three
remaining walls, as fiery bodies were thrown across the bar. Kyle dived
off his stool, rolled ungracefully onto one knee, Pietzo in hand,
targeted.

The Cman did not move. His long overcoat fluttered around him, still
soaking up the ripples from the Plasma grenade. Behind him lay
devastation quickly morphing into ash as the ravished plasma flames
ate through the remaining structures. Several burning civilians tried
desperately to quench the flames that were quickly engulfing their
bodies. But soon they too joined the amorphous pile of melted plastic,
ash and glass.

In an instant, the Barman's forefinger detached from its arm housing
and surged forward, just as Kyle fired 6 shots in rapid succession into
the middle of the room. The Cman's .65 thundered to life and
unleashed the first of its deadly load.

Four shots ripped through the Barman's chest, throwing him back
violently against the spirit rack like someone had yanked him hard by
the scruff of his heavily scarred neck. Kyles' second and third shot were
quickly swallowed by the Cman's chest cavity armour. Behind him
something stirred, the Cman swivelled round as a heavily burnt man
leapt towards him. The Cman's .65 boomed a mere inch from the
punter's head, blew away is face and sent the body reeling back into the
flames.

Another shot scooted past the Cman's right ear, as the .65 retargeted
and thundered another four blasts to his left. A sound, to the right - the
Cman turned his head to face the new threat, his hand already facing
right tensed as the .65 unleashed another 3 bolts ripping through 2
more punters. The SonyC1000 blinked. The Cman faced the bar - too
late.
The Tiranium finger shattered the left mirror shade and thrust itself
into the
Cman's eye. 2 more TT canisters blew as the Sony quickly re-routed
targeting power to the right eye and reaquired new targets. Two more
shots entered the Cman's face. The first shattered the left cheek bone,
the second bored itself into his forehead. Blood poured from the
damaged eye, Testosterone flowed through his body. The Cman felt no
pain.

The .65 switched to incendiary as the Cman pivoted his right hand in a
wide arc from the right, across the front of his body and to his left.
Flames spewed forward and quickly administered a fiery death to those
few remaining.

The entire bar was engulfed in fire. The plasterone walls cracked as the
rapid heat expansion brought them to their knees. Flames danced
wildly across the entire room, quickly multiplying as they found new
life on the spirit rack. The Cman blinked. Threat Assessment:0.0%. He
surveyed the room quickly. Devastation lay around him. Mutilated
bodies were strewn across the floor. A Schlack bottle shattered as the
heat expanded the glass and new fire spewed forward as the flames
engulfed the liquid. In the corner by the now smouldering Pinton table,
a body stirred. A bleeding punter made a brave attempt to escape the
hungry flames with his remaining limbs. The Sony quickly assessed,
analysed, and retargeted. The .65 thundered a final shot. Nothing
stirred anymore.

He turned and walked slowly towards the recently created opening in
the East Wing. Energy was low; his shoulder was bleeding profusely,
as was his eye. He could feel the warm wetness flowing down the side
of his face; he had lost much blood.

The .65 repositioned itself into his forearm as he walked through the
carnage and out into the deserted street. A cold wind blew through the
town as the first droplets of rain fell heavily onto his blood-soaked
overcoat. The Sony assessed the damage. The left eye would need
replacing, possibly the shoulder too. His face would probably be
reconstructed in readiness for the next assignment. He faltered, his left
shoe catching a crack in the much abused pavement. The SonyC1000
switched rapidly to emergency reserve; took the weapons targeting and
defence off-line, and routed all power to Repair Management. He
should make it back to The Company on the reserve, but he still felt
weak. He had lost much blood.

The bar burned gloriously as the walls crumbled and brought down the
wooden-beamed ceiling. His mission was over. Although the Cman's
face gave away no emotion, he smiled.

The Sony suddenly blinked. Behind him he heard a faint click, and the
slow, deep humming of Pietzo Pulse crystals. He turned swiftly to face
the twin barrel of a recently used .35. The SonyC1000 quickly ignited
his own .65, but it was too late.
He had lost too much blood. Kyle smiled and gently squeezed the
trigger...